Pirates v Ninjas
by EtherDoc
Summary: Written for a prompt.


She sat clutching a ragged doll with one hand while her eyes darted about the room. Above her head the adults stood with voices barely above a whisper. The man with grey hair, the one who had taken her away from the blood and dark and smoke, glanced down at her wide blue eyes. He ran a hand through his hair and asked her the same question, the question they all kept asking, while she bit her tongue to keep from crying.

"Can you tell me what he looked like, the man with the gun?" Lestrade asked gently. She shook her head and buried her head under her arms, hugging her doll close to her chest.

"Then can you tell me your name? Your parents must be worried about you."

The girl trembled but was silent. Lestrade sighed and rubbed at his eyes.

"Who called the freak?" Sally asked, voice filled with loathing.

"I did," Lestrade said. "We need him on this, Sally. We don't have any leads. He'll figure it out in half the time and we can all go home."

"We have an eye witness," Sally said.

"Yeah, and she isn't talking, is she?"

Sherlock came in without knocking, John in tow.

"Thanks for coming down," Lestrade said.

"What took you so long?" Sally asked.

"We had to visit the warehouse first," John answered. Sherlock gave him a withering look.

"That's not allowed. You can't just do whatever you want," said Sally.

"I think I can," Sherlock answered.

"Enough," Lestrade said, holding up his hands at them both.

The silence lasted just a few seconds and then a child's small cries broke it. Sally bent down until she was level with the little girl. Her hands swept the long hair back from the dirty face.

Lestrade nodded towards the door and Sherlock stepped out into the hall with him.

"So?" Lestrade asked.

"So," Sherlock answered.

"What did you find at the warehouse?"

"There were two victims, not one as you stated in your text. One male, one female," Sherlock said. "Obviously drug related. You're looking for a man in his mid- to late-30's, 5'8" going by his shoe size. The perpetrator left on foot then returned with friends to carry away the bodies. Judging by the distance of the warehouse to known gang safehouses, I'd say he has ties to the Blue Bandits."

"Anything else?" Lestrade asked. John opened the door and joined them in the hallway.

"They victims were not the girl's parents," Sherlock said.

"How can you tell?"

"She's not in shock; she's just not talking," John answered. "She let me examine her, even smiled when I told her I liked her doll. She probably witnessed part of the crime, but I don't think she saw the murders."

"A little girl sees one man running away from a dark warehouse. She finds two bodies, each with a bullet wound to the head. She doesn't even need to hide when he returns with his companions because they aren't looking for a little girl half hidden in the shadows. She watched them carry the bodies away then waited for the police to arrive."

Lestrade took a step back and blinked a few times.

"Bloody hell, we haven't gotten two words out of her. How did you know all that?"

"Isn't it obvious? She ran away from an unhappy home two weeks ago and has managed to survive even though she's only seven. She's resourceful, curious, even brave. She's seen her share of violence. It's fear that's holding her back."

"Fear of what?" Lestrade asked.

"Fear that she'll be returned home."

They went back into the office to find Sally still kneeling by the girl. She was trying to coax something from her.

"Can you tell who your mommy is? Or your daddy?" Sally asked.

"No, no, no!" Sherlock shouted, making everyone jump.

"Get him out of here, he's scaring her!" Sally said.

"You're the one asking questions about her abusive father and alcoholic mother."

"Sherlock," John said, and nodded towards the girl who was watching them all. John knelt down in Sally's place and the little girl offered him a timid smile. There was a reason John was a doctor. His smile was comforting, his hands gentle as they held hers.

"Can you tell me your doll's name?" he asked softly. "She's very pretty."

Sherlock interjected. "What does a doll have to do-"

"Clara," the little girl whispered, smoothing the doll's hair.

"Clara, that's lovely. Did you name her that?"

"Yes," the girl said.

"And what's your name then? Just your first name, so I know what to call you."

When the little girl didn't answer John made humming sound.

"Well, maybe I can guess. Is your name Clara, too? No? How about Sally? This lady here, her name is Sally."

"Hi, Sally."

"Hi, sweetie."

"So what's your name?" John prompted again.

"Jenny."

"Jenny, that's a great name. What's your favorite holiday, Jenny?"

"Halloween."

"Jenny, did you dress up for Halloween last year? You did. What did you wear? Were you a princess?"

"No, I was a ninja. A girl ninja. I had a sword and everything."

Sherlock chuckled lightly and Jenny smiled shyly at him.

"Sherlock was a pirate almost every year when he was a boy," John said.

"Really? Didn't you ever want to be something else?" Jenny asked.

Sherlock opened his mouth but no words came out. He seemed to be searching for something to say.

"No, I liked being a pirate," he finally answered.

"Pirates are stupid," Jenny declared. "Ninjas always beat pirates, always."

"Nonsense. Ninja were covert agents acting alone and mostly nonviolent, engaging in open combat only in specific situations," Sherlock said.

"Ninjas have swords," said Jenny.

"Pirates have swords and guns."

"A ninja would beat a pirate," Jenny insisted.

"I don't think this is an argument you can win, Sherlock," Lestrade said.

"Jenny, those men you saw, they're like pirates. And we need to find them. You're a ninja and only you can help us beat them," said John.

"How?"

They called in the sketch artist and John gently coaxed a description from Jenny. As she worked Jenny swung her legs back and forth under her chair. Her dolly lay close by but she was no longer clutching it like a life preserver.

"Between her description and your insight I'm sure we can find who did this," Lestrade said to Sherlock.

"No doubt. Good evening, Inspector."

"Goodnight, Greg," John said.

Sherlock paused

"What about the girl?" Sherlock asked.

"She'll be placed in protective custody. There's no way I'm returning her to her home without an investigation," said Lestrade.

"Good."

Sherlock turned and strolled away, and John followed close behind.


End file.
